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Now reading: Chapter 32 | The Walk Of Shame Is Actually A Walk Of Victory from Your Girlfriend Calls Me Daddy, a Fantasy novel by Rikisari.

I pulled on yesterday’s pants and tried not to think about how the fabric stuck to my skin. Shower sex didn’t happen, thank god, because ra was still walking like she’d gone three rounds with a professional fighter. Which, considering what my dick did to her virgin pussy last night, wasn’t far off.

My shirt slled like her perfu and sex and sweat. Perfect.

I grabbed my phone off her desk. Eleven missed calls from Marco. Two texts asking if I was alive. One from my father that I deleted without reading.

"You look good in my shirt."

ra sat on the edge of her bed, wrapped in a towel, black hair dripping water onto her shoulders. The towel barely covered her tits. Red skin flushed darker across her cheeks and throat.

Stop staring.

You just spent an hour with your hands all over her in the shower.

You need to leave before you bend her over the desk.

"Your shirt’s on the floor covered in co and pizza grease."

"Romantic."

"I try."

I called Marco. He picked up on the first ring.

"Mr. D’Angelo."

"Yeah. I need a pickup from Coastline. Building F."

"I’ll be there in twenty minutes."

"Make it fifteen. And bring the car around to the back entrance."

"Of course."

He hung up without asking questions. That’s why Marco got paid six figures to drive around.

I turned back to ra. She’d dropped the towel.

Jesus Christ.

Completely naked. Still wet from the shower. Water dripping down her red skin, over her tits, down her flat stomach, between her thighs. Her tail swished behind her. Yellow eyes locked on mine.

"You’re going to make late."

"You’re already late."

"ra."

"What."

She walked toward . Hips swaying. Tail moving like a trono.

I backed up.

Hit the door.

She pressed against . Hands on my chest. Tail wrapping around my leg.

"You should make a go bag."

The words ca out before I could stop them.

She blinked.

"What?"

"Clothes. Toothbrush. Whatever girls need. Keep it at my place."

"Why would I do that."

"Because you’re going to end up there anyway. Might as well be prepared."

Her mouth fell open.

"You want to stay with you."

"On weekends. Yeah."

"At your condo."

"That’s what I said."

"The Angelo heir is asking to keep a go bag at his expensive downtown condo so I can spend weekends there."

"Yes."

"After one night."

"Technically it’s been less than twenty-four hours since we t."

She laughed. Bright and genuine and beautiful.

Then kissed .

Hard.

Her tongue slid against mine. Tasted like toothpaste and want.

I grabbed her ass. Pulled her closer. My dick pressed against her stomach. Hard again.

Of course.

She broke the kiss.

"Yes."

"Yes what."

"Yes I’ll make a go bag. Yes I’ll stay with you on weekends. Yes to all of it."

Fuck.

That was easier than expected.

I kissed her forehead.

"Good. Now put on clothes before I bend you over this desk."

"Promises promises."

"ra."

"Fine."

She stepped back. Grabbed a pair of black panties from her dresser. Pulled them on slowly. Bent over more than necessary.

She’s doing this on purpose.

Black sports bra next. Yoga pants that hugged every curve. The academy uniform on top. White shirt. Navy blazer. Black skirt that stopped mid-thigh.

She looked good.

Too good.

"See you at class."

"You better."

I kissed her one more ti. Quick. Sweet.

Then left before I could change my mind.

The hallway was empty at six fifteen in the morning. Most students still asleep or getting ready. I took the stairs down. Pushed through the back door into cool morning air.

Three girls stood near the entrance smoking cigarettes. They looked at . Then at Building F. Then back at .

One of them grinned.

"Walk of sha?"

"Walk of victory."

She laughed. Her friends joined in.

I kept walking.

Marco’s black rcedes pulled up thirty seconds later. I slid into the back seat. Leather interior. Tinted windows. Privacy screen already up between us.

"The apartnt, sir?"

"Yeah."

The car pulled away from campus. Smooth. Quiet.

I leaned back against the headrest and closed my eyes.

Forty-five minutes.

Might as well check the loot.

I pulled up my status screen. The translucent interface materialized in my vision. Sa as always. Na, title, hero rating, abilities.

Gacha Ticket: x2 (Gold Tier)

Two gold tickets.

Not bad for losing my virginity in this body.

I navigated to my inventory. Two golden tickets sat there. Spinning slowly. Glowing with that obnoxious gacha ga energy I rembered from mobile gas in my first life.

I tapped the first ticket.

The interface exploded.

Suddenly I was staring at a full pachinko machine. Bright lights. Spinning wheels. Three slots in the center cycling through abilities, items, and stats at impossible speed. Music played. Loud. Obnoxious. Exactly like every predatory gacha ga ever made.

TAP TO SPIN

I tapped.

The slots blurred. Faster. Faster.

Then slowed.

The first slot landed on a fla icon.

The second on a star marked with the number two.

The third on the word ABILITY in gold letters.

CONGRATULATIONS

YOU HAVE ACQUIRED: FUEGO

RANK: 2-STAR

TYPE: CHANT-ACTIVATED / EMITTER

A new window opened. Information flooded my brain. Not reading it. Knowing it. Like the ability had been downloaded directly into my head.

FUEGO

By chanting "Fuego" you manifest a fire arrow with imnse destructive power. Wind-up is slow. Three full seconds from chant to release. The heat output exceeds standard fire manipulation by a factor of ten. The arrow flies straight. Pierces through most conventional materials. Explodes on impact.

Effective range: 100 ters.

Cooldown: None, but consecutive use drains stamina exponentially.

A literal fire arrow.

That’s so stupid.

I love it.

I felt the ability settle into my body. Like a muscle I’d always had but never used. Ready. Waiting.

I could chant right now and blow a hole through Marco’s car.

Don’t do that.

That’s a terrible idea.

I opened the second ticket.

Sa pachinko interface. Sa obnoxious music.

TAP TO SPIN

I tapped.

The slots spun. Slowed.

An eye icon appeared in the first slot.

A star marked with the number two in the second.

The word ITEM in the third.

CONGRATULATIONS

YOU HAVE ACQUIRED: GRAVITY JAIL

RANK: 2-STAR

TYPE: OCULAR AUGNTATION / CONSUMABLE

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